London Calling
by TheHufflepuffHuntress
Summary: He was happy, safe, normal. That was his life now. He had made a decision to become a witness to events like these, to let life go on. He would not be responsible. Warning: mentions of a terrorist attack.


**AN: Hey. It's been a while since I've written anything, and to be honest, I didn't expect to write anything today. However, I've been watching the news for about four hours now, and I'm kinda unsure how to process a terrorist attack in London, and I'm kinda scared about what's gonna happen in my country now, and this just...happened. *shrugs*** **My thoughts and prayers are obviously with the families and victims of the attack, and all the similar attacks recently, and I really hope this doesn't seem insensitive to them in any way.**

 **I also apologise if Alex seems really OOC in this, I don't know the fandom too well, but I thought that Alex would be a good hero to project/vent my feelings (on)to, so here we go.**

 **Warning: Mentions of a terrorist attack.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

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He was happy with the Pleasures, if happy was the right word. Oddly enough, he felt safe, like his life of espionage might finally be over. It had claimed a lot of lives, almost his own on many occasions. It had certainly claimed Jack's. But he didn't like to think about that, because as he knew, life went on, and boy, didn't that take a while for him to accept? So yes, Alex Rider might say that he was happy. He still walked looking over his shoulder. He still woke in terror at night. He still had eyes that had seen far too much, and always would. However, he had a life, he had friends, and he could even begin to say he had a family again.

It had been years since he had got onto the plane to America, damaged and grieving, and he had never gone back to England, to the memories he desperately wanted to avoid. As he got the bus that morning, he never suspected that he would be in that dreaded country by the end of the day.

"Hey Alex!" Nate grinned as Alex plunked down next to him. Nate was Alex's…well maybe not best friend, but a good friend, for sure. He reminded him a lot of Tom.

"Hey!" Alex panted, having had to sprint to make it to the bus on time. "What's up?"

Nate groaned.

"What isn't up? I've got two tests today, which you know I haven't prepared for, and I have detention tonight, but coach wants me at practice for the big game on Friday, and Mom's forcing me to go to a stupid family dinner after school where all these old people I don't know are gonna pinch my cheeks and tell me how much I've grown, which I hate, because duh, I've grown, you last saw me when I was three!"

Alex, as usual when faced with Nate's dramatic rambles, had no sympathy.

"Wow Nate, however do you _cope_ with such a hard life? An education? A promising career in sport? A caring family? What ridiculous concepts!"

"Shut up Rider!" Nate laughed, knowing that Alex's mother tongue was sarcasm.

"Whatever you say mate, whatever you say! Now, which subjects are the tests on? I'll see if I can help you."

Life for Alex had become, after his move to America, decidedly normal. He got the bus in the morning, worked his way through the day, played football (the English type) after school, did homework and met up with friends. Sure, he also had weekly meetings with therapists, had to hide his scars and bullet wounds from people who would get too curious, and always had to be ready to be suddenly and violently ripped from the life he had built there; but for him, that _was_ normal.

It stayed normal after Alex got to school for a grand total of about fifteen minutes.

Alex was zoning out about a quarter of a way into what was becoming a long-winded and boring lecture from his French teacher on a grammar point that he had learnt when he was six, when a girl who was equally as bored gasped sharply, staring at her phone screen.

The teacher paused.

" _Kylie, must I remind you that phones are forbidden in class, yet again?"_ she barked out in French.

"Sorry Miss…" the aforementioned Kylie replied absentmindedly, still ensnared by her phone.

Alex felt his heart rate pick up. Although he had not been a spy for a long time, his instincts had never dulled. Something was wrong.

"Oh my God!" Kylie murmured loudly, transfixed.

"Kylie! Your phone needs to be away!" the teacher switched to English.

"God!" she whispered again, going white as a sheet.

"Kylie!"

By now the whole class was absolutely focused on what had Kylie looking so shocked. Alex's heart beat even faster.

"Kylie, what's going on?" her friend asked, trying to get a look at her phone.

"Someone's driven a car into some tourists on Westminster Bridge. There's been gunshots. People say there's been a stabbing. Isn't that where the British government is?"

The class gasped. Alex felt his heart stutter, stop.

"They're **–** they're saying it's probably a terrorist attack."

Alex panicked for a brief moment.

What if it was SCORPIA? What if they were back? What if they came after him? He was supposed to be safe. He was _safe_ , damnit! He was finally happy and they were back for him and they would kill the Pleasures and he was going to have to do it all over again and-

He had to take a moment to remember how to breathe.

Rationally, Alex knew it couldn't be SCORPIA. There were so many terrorist attacks nowadays, it could have been any number of groups, but certainly not SCORPIA. Unless M16 had lied to him once more. But no, it would all be fine. 'Probably a terrorist attack'. It was bad, horrific even, but he would be _just fine_. It wasn't even his problem!

And yet, and yet, why did Alex feel like it was?

"Monsieur Rider? Are you okay? Do you need to be excused from class?"

Alex became aware of his class and his teacher looking at him in concern. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a gurgle. He coughed and tried again.

"I'm fine. I er, I have family in London, can I…go outside for a moment? I-I need to…"

A lie, but Alex was used to them.

"Of course. Do you need someone with you?" the teacher looked even more worried, but handed him a hall pass.

Alex shook his head, took his bag and walked numbly out of the classroom. He went to the nearest bathroom and splashed water onto his head, trying to clear it. It didn't work.

He got out his phone and looked at the news.

 **London Attack – Live Updates**

 **Serious Incident in Westminster: Suspected Terror Attack**

 **Westminster in Lockdown**

 **Shots Heard in London**

 **Suspected Casualties in Car and Knife Attack In Westminster**

 **Heart of British Democracy Attacked**

Somehow, Alex felt guilty, like he should have been there or done something. In some part of his mind, he felt like he could have stopped what happened, or should have, anyhow. England was, after all, his country. He'd given almost everything he had to protect it, and things like this happened.

 **Breaking: Woman confirmed dead in London terror attack.**

People were getting hurt. People were getting killed. And he was miles away across the Atlantic, living his life normally, when he could have been out there, stopping attacks like these. If he'd stayed in England, stayed with MI6, would the attack still have happened?

 **Car Attack Victims Probably French Students**

Children? God, could it get worse? And the French? Hadn't they lost too many to terror recently? Alex could feel his breaths shortening again.

 **Police Officer Stabbed**

' **Catastrophic' injuries, says hospital spokesperson**

Why on Earth did Alex have a sense helplessness all of a sudden? Why did he think that he was responsible for this? This was the first major attack in England since he left, and, he knew, the first time he had ever regretted leaving.

He gripped the edge of the sink and stared at his reflection. His frame shook. His face was drained. His eyes, God, they looked haunted, like deep whirlpools that could drag you down and hold you there until you drown. He wanted to cry, shout, scream at how unfair it is, how he should have been able to help.

Alex closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he forced himself to be calm.

His thoughts were ridiculous, because that wasn't his life anymore and he wouldn't have been able to do anything anyway.

He was happy with the Pleasures. He was safe. He was normal. That was his life now. He had made a decision to become a witness to events like these, to let life go on. If terror wanted to strike at the heart of British Government (his government, a small voice whispers in his head), then he would be horrified, no doubt, but he would certainly not be responsible. He would _not_ be helpless.

 **Around 20 suspected casualties in London attack**

That gave Alex pause for a moment. Since when was being helpless being passive? He was not a passive person, he didn't like standing by when things went wrong, and yet that was all that he could do now, and he hated it. He hated it with a passion, and he knew that what he had thought earlier was true: that he had never wanted to be back in England more than he did now. England meant people who conjured up bad memories, and people who will never smile at him again, and people who just want to use him like a puppet on a string. It also meant people who needed his protection. How _could_ he be passive in light of such a tragedy?

Once again, Alex was dragged into a pit of guilt, and once again, he could not get out.

Alex was startled out of his thoughts when a voice crackled over the intercom.

"Could Alex Rider please report to the main office?"

Alex took one last, lingering look at the shaken boy in the mirror, before leaving the bathroom and walking through the empty halls.

At the office, a secretary smiled distractedly at him and ushered him inside. He handed Alex a phone and turned back to his furious typing at a computer screen.

Alex looked at the phone in apprehension. Somehow, he knew what to expect, but he had no idea what he was going to do about it. He put it to his ear.

"Hello, this is Alex Rider?"

"Good afternoon, Mr Rider," said a smooth, British voice. "Or rather, good morning."

Here it comes, Alex thought, and right then, in that critical moment, he came to a decision.

"There's been a problem with your account at Royal and General Bank. Would you be available to come in and provide some details?"

He knew what he was going to do.

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 **AN: Thanks for putting up with the long AN and kinda depressing fic, and for being a place that I can vent when things that are so awful happen. Please feel free to PM me if you want to talk about anything relating to the events today.**

 **Bye xxx**

 **NB: Just to clear any confusion, the attack was not made by SCORPIA, as this is obviously a very real and serious event, but I felt that it would be logical for Alex to have a brief moment of panic that it _was_ them. This was a horrific act of radicalism, carried out (we now know) by someone who did not respect the values of our free and open society, and I did not want to diminish the horror of that by over-fictionalising it. Thank you for your reviews and support xxx**


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